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Fluixon and Thomas stumbled off the boat into the shallows, mud sucking at their boots as the night cloaked the first island. There were no voices left, no pursuers, all left behind in the current of their rows.
Thomas’s chest still heaved, lungs raw with seawater air and the memory of smoke. The only thought that had been running through his mind was to guarantee Flux’s safety. He hopped out his own boat with no hesitation, diving headfirst into the sea and possible jeopardy.
Thomas had picked them off, one after the other, knocking out each of their boats and buying Flux time to escape and further the distance between them.
It had been instinct. Duty. Something more, though he couldn’t name it now with his pulse roaring in his ears.
The secret was surely out now. After the trap had gone off, setting off alerts to the whole world, by now, everyone would know about the Conspiracy and how they had been behind it all. There was only one move left to make now on the chestboard, fleeing to Infernus.
It’s a moment they had all prepared for. The Conspiracy always thought ahead, building the tunnel even after ‘winning’ the election, just in case worse came to worse, and push came to shove. Thomas figured he always knew this day would come, sooner or later, they would find out who was really behind the murders of their beloved leaders.
Karma had a way of finding its way back to its people, and the truth was known for spilling out eventually.
Flux’s voice broke through the night. “So it had to come to this.”
Thomas barked out a humorless laugh, breathless still. “We always plan for everything.”
Flux didn’t answer. Instead, he dragged Thomas into the cover of the rocks, shadows swallowing them whole. The world went quiet except for the two of them, the sea pulling back in anticipation almost, in fear.
Thomas realised then just how close they were standing, close enough to feel the heat radiation off of Flux, and close enough to see how sharply Flux’s eyes seem to simply burn in the dark.
Flux’s voice was low, heated, as he spoke. “This is it then, the plan wasted and everything we worked for falling apart.”
“We’re still standing, aren’t we?”
Flux’s hand slammed against the rock beside his head. “Survival was never in question. That’s not the point.”
Thomas held his gaze, refusing to flinch. “Then you already see, I’ll be standing there with you.”
The silence that followed resonated with something cold and frigid, to be shattered at any moment. Flux’s jaw clenched, his breath hot against Thomas’s mouth.
Then, Flux kissed him, exactly how Thomas expected. Forceful, desperate, and hungry. Insatiable. A need for control.
Thomas gave him what he wanted, kissed back just as fiercely, indulging in this one precious moment together before it could slip away from him permanently. He let him himself hold onto Flux, his hands finding their way to Flux’s waist, fingers digging in, and pulling him closer to his chest.
Flux pressed him harder into the stone, his lips salty and bruising, sharp and in command. But Thomas only responded with equal heat, surrendering himself to Flux’s hold, letting him take him for all he had to give.
Flux’s hands roamed over to the back of Thomas’s head, tangling them in his hair, pulling him in deeper. Thomas only felt himself sink and sink, further into his lips and touch. Flux, his only anchor. He would drown in his touch if he could, dissolve in his gaze.
When Flux finally tore away, Thomas felt heavy under his eyes and emptied, the moment slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass. Flux’s hands lingered on Thomas, dragging them infuriatingly slowly down his chest. He pushed them apart, panting slow and steady as he averted his gaze downward.
“You did good work today, Thomas.”
Thomas breathed, grazing with his hands what little he could have left of Flux’s affections.
“Anything for the Conspiracy.”
Anything for you.
Thomas had never felt more relief in his life than when he saw Flux emerge into the tunnels.
Flux survived the battle at Infernus, of course he did. He always seemed to get away just barely, by the skin of his teeth.
It seemed like just like Thomas himself, death simply could not reach Flux. There was only one who could.
Flux stumbled his way through the stone corridor towards Thomas, almost tripping over himself. Before he could fully tumble over, Thomas caught him in his arms, helping him stand up straight. He leaned Flux against the barren walls, Flux’s body burning at the touch from the lava and of disillusionment.
He was absolutely exhausted, they both were, from the fight and defeat. Thomas hovered over him barely a breath away, watching with adamant concern as Flux made an effort to compose himself.
Vibrant purple stared back lazily into his own dull brown eyes, but Thomas has never felt more alive than when he was in the presence of Flux.
Flux’s hair fell over his flushed face, damp with sweat and steam. Thomas’s fingers twitched, itching to brush it away for him, like he had for all of Flux’s problems.
Before he could, Flux’s communicator buzzed, stealing away his gaze.
Thomas watched attentively as Flux’s brows furrowed, his face turning stern. He looked back at Thomas with a different, harder, look in his eyes, one he couldn’t quite place.
When Thomas asked what it was, Flux straightened his back and got off the wall, brushing off the heat, the dust, and Thomas. He told him he was going to fight Saparata in the colosseum.
“Why? Flux, we can’t do this anymore, it’s over,” Thomas said. “We could run away instead one last time together, you and I, live off some corner of the islands for the rest of our days in peace.”
Flux stopped walking ahead of him, turning around with a blank expression on his face.
“It would at least buy us some time to come up with another plan,” Thomas continued on, trying to avoid the pleading leaking through his voice. “Infernus is done, the Conspiracy is cracked open, we’re done.”
Flux stood, staring distantly into Thomas’s eyes. Thomas froze as Flux slid his hand up to cup Thomas’s cheek, gentle yet firm. He shuddered, feeling the weight of Flux’s attention and the hand against his cheek all too strongly.
Thomas held his breath as Flux leaned in and placed a soft kiss on the corner of Thomas’s mouth, barely missing his lips.
“You’re right, it is over, Thomas,” Flux said, pulling his hands away and clenching his fists tightly at his sides. “But if it’s over today, I’m going to end it myself, standing on my feet and not hidden away like some pathetic coward.”
And there Flux was again, running after Saparata like a dog running after its owner. But Flux wasn’t someone who could be owned by anyone, tied down to anyone. He did what he wanted, stood for his own values, and fought for whatever he believed in.
And maybe Thomas was wrong to make such an assessment. Perhaps it was due to jealousy, or perhaps it was just fear for Flux’s life, but either way, it made his skin boil. Yet, there was nothing Thomas could do about it. When Flux made up his mind, it was made, set and done. It was the way it was, the way Flux was, and no one could ever change Flux.
In the end, Thomas couldn’t help but adore him. Flux’s unwavering conviction, determination, and almost relentless obsession. It was all in his nature, so painfully Flux.
This was a cause Thomas was willing to die for when he signed up, no matter how the world looked upon him or Flux for it. No matter what Flux did or where he would go, Thomas would be there right behind him, a salute at the ready, prepared to drop everything at a moment’s notice simply because Flux asked for it.
He fought friends, allies, and enemies to see the world painted in an image he preferred to see, in an image Flux wanted to see.
In the end, Thomas couldn’t help but smile a pitiful smile.
“Then, I shall follow you to your end.”
Thomas was right.
He gripped the railing so tight, he swore it might have dented. His eyes never left Flux, watching the two duel in the arena. It was dangerous, quick, and bloody.
It was devastating to only be an observer. He wanted so desperately to jump down, be there at Flux’s side like he always had been, save him like always did.
Wherever Flux went, Thomas was meant to be there. They could’ve done it, he knows they could have.
But he also knew Flux was all too stubborn, it’s part of what Thomas admired so much about him. Flux would never see it as a favour, he’d see it as a threat, cowardice, or simply pity.
Flux wanted to die standing on his own feet, on his own terms, and that’s what he was going to do. To keep his dignity, his morals.
In the end, he had bled in someone else’s arms, the one who had killed him. Saparata.
To the end, Flux remained effortlessly himself.
He died, forever a distance away from Thomas, right by Saparata’s side.
Thomas watched as Saps collapsed by his once friend’s body, holding him dear to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
Thomas shed none himself, didn’t dare to.
He couldn’t bear to look, quiet and sudden choked sounds escaping his throat.
Thomas only squeezed his own eyes shut and turned away from the scene before they would come after him too.
When Thomas was executed, he died in a lone, cold, barred box, bathed in a pool of lava.
When Thomas died, at least he felt unchanged, if there was one thing he could take from Flux. He defended the Conspiracy to his last breath, lived with no regrets.
Thomas swore he could see Flux now, hear him laughing at him. What would he say now? Would he nod in approval, shake his head in disappointment? Or perhaps he would simply ask Thomas to follow him one last time.
Flux was not someone Thomas could have ever aspired to change, not one he ever tried to. Flux as himself was the most alluring he could ever have been.
To ask for Flux’s love would have been too much, too far removed from what and who he was.
In the end, Thomas felt ready in death, for one final act of undying, wretched devotion.
When Thomas died, he wondered if there was an afterlife and he wondered if he would ever feel the taste of Flux’s lips on his tongue again.